Random Thoughts IV
by Ophium
Summary: A series of short stories, from the POV of various characters on the course of several moments of different episodes. The fourth one is from TBag's POV, during episode 1.02 Allen. Some bad language and sexual innuendo present.


_A series of drabbles, from the POV of various characters on the course of several moments._

Random thoughts: T-Bag

The Pretty

_(Set during Allen)_

There are some limitations as to the amount of entertainment that a fella has access to once he joins the judicial system. And I was always very keen about things like the privation of my entertainment.

One of my favourite sports has always been to watch the arrival of them new inmates. I love to watch them step down from that bus, still smelling like human beings and I can't wait to see them realize that that smell won't stay with them long. Not in here.

This last time, however unfortunately, I was otherwise engaged and missed their arrival.

Not all fresh men that arrive are really fresh fishes. Some have been in this Godless system for longer than yours truly, so them don't count much. Those are stale fish and I possess no interest in them.

It's the new blood, the young ones who have heard all sorts of stories about life behind bars but have never tasted the real thing that I look for. It's the ones that arrive with fear in their eyes and shoulders held high to appear tough that I love to break. It's the ones that catch my eye too, because a man has to have his standards and I like to watch their pretty faces when they scream. They don't look so pretty then.

With some, it's all about the eyes. Particularly the blue kind variety.

Brown eyes are usually too dark to see any reaction, they hide too much stuff, stuff you should've seen coming. Like that Hollander woman, who betrayed me. She had brown eyes as sweet as chocolate, promising me sweet nothings while stabbing me in the back.

I hate brown eyes. The only brown eyes that I want to see is hers, open wide, lifeless.

No, blue is what works best for me. There ain't a prettiest shade to gaze at other than scared-blue. The way that lil' black ball in the center focus on you and then contracts in fear, leaving all that blue around, boy! It just sends a jolt down my spine that leaves me feeling all tingling and hard.

Maytag has blue eyes, a lovely shade, I thought at the beginning, but it's been losing some of its appeal of late. He don't fear me anymore, so I don't get scared-blue as often as I like no more.

I'd been looking forward for the next batch of flesh coming through Joliet's doors, hoping to score myself a new addition to my 'entertainment' choices, but a minor inconvenience between myself and one of them darker ones landed him a smiley throat and me a night in the SHU.

You can not imagine my disappointment for missing this bus when I start hearing all these wonders about the new fish, Scofield. Damn, the name alone fills your mouth like sweet cotton candy!

Some of my closest connections, brothers of the Alliance for Purity delegation that I've started at Joliet, knowing of my exquisite tastes, wasted no time in painting me the picture.

First timer in jail, as fishy as any fish can be, the Scofield character had landed his time inside due to some unforeseen law enforcement bad timing. The timing being them cops showing up when he was holding up a bank. Old west style, guns blazing n'all!

As far as my associates had been able to determine, the new fish had no affiliations inside yet, talking to no one other than his cellmate, that latino fella with the sugary name.

When I asked them what the new fish looked like, they had just one word to describe him- pretty. And that just brought a big smile to my watering mouth.

Most of these fellas don't share my appetites; they rather stick with the female version of the sin, not daring to try the other dishes on account of what they might find out about themselves. So, for the actual word- pretty- to leave their lips in relation to another man… Hmm! Hmm!

They hadn't found much more, either because the boy was a mystery himself or because of their incompetence, but that didn't bother me much. I was happy to find out for myself.

I've always considered myself a student of the human condition and the study of Scofield's condition was one that I was just itching to get myself in to, as humanly as possible.

I step in to the yard feeling good about myself. The sun was shinning nicely, warm against my back, reminding me of the old days in Alabama; the tension between us and the Africans was building to nicely proportions and the new fish was both young and pretty. I felt like singing right there and then.

Before I could find the new fish, it was the new fish that came to me, seating peacefully on the bleachers, my bleachers. My territory. It almost ruined the fun of the hunt. Almost.

I lick myself in anticipation, biting my bottom lip imagining it is his flesh that I was biting on and I can't help but shudder. I can feel his taste already, all tender and naive.

On closer inspection, because bless the boy!, he doesn't run away when I introduce myself, I can see that my associates have failed to portrait the true attributes of the new fish. He's much more than just pretty. He is the definition of the word. The pretty.

I truly believe that after my eyes have feast on such a display of lustful lips and shapefully body, I can not bring myself to call pretty to any other.

I've never considered myself a particularly religious man, on account that Jesus' never done much to make my life any easier. Now, however, I know that Jesus loves me and this can only be His way to make up for His mistakes.

There is to be understood that inside a prison's walls, there ain't that much of a choice in variety. The ones that were slightly interesting to the eye outside become appealing in here; the ones that were more than interesting, in here become kings... or queens, depending on their position. Most of them would have never caught my attention if I wasn't under such limitations.

A fine piece of tail like the one I'm seeing now, hmm!, hmm! That one would've caught my eye outside for sure. Out in the open, I would've hunted him, caught him and just eat him up with a spoon. In here, his ass is just as likely mine, he just don't know it yet.

I watch as he stands up and darn! The boy is big, body built like a young sapling, looking down on me like I'm a piece of dirt tagged to the sole of his shoe. I notice, even though he' squinting in the harsh light, that his eyes have an exotic shade of blue that I haven't seen in a long time.

I can't wait to see how that colour looks like when he' scared. The tightness in my pants grows tighter as I imagine his fearful face. I silently wonder if he's a screamer or a crier.

I smirk at him, knowing that he' seen the bulge in my pants, his face growing red with rage. It's the only real emotion I've seen escaping him during our conversation and even so, I would've missed it if I hadn't been searching for it. Interesting.

He's a bitter, I can tell by his reaction. I file that information away, knowing that when the time comes I'll have to watch out for that.

I let him walk away after he refuses my pocket and secretly admire his spine. The kid's got spunk and nothing spices my steak better than a little spunk. Makes it all the tastier.

His ass isn't that bad either.

I lick my lips again and I can tell that my dirt, dirty thoughts are written all over my face as I watch the pretty walk away. Maytag is looking at me and fuming with rage, but that don't bother me at all. Maytag is like meat-roll, the kind you know you'll eat every Friday and whose flavour you're already familiar with.

The new fish is like them fancy cuisine dishes. You can barely pronounce it, but you know that it will taste like nothing you've ever sunken your teeth in before.

In a way, I'm pleased that he refused my pocket. I always get what I want, but to get it without sport, that ain't entertaining at all. I like to see them struggle, to see the spunk of their young years defeated.

I love to be present on that glorious moment when they realize that they're not invincible.

I thrive on the sight of looking in to their shiny eyes and see the light loosing its brightness as their soul is consumed by the unfairness of it all, as they realize that they belong to me, as they surrender themselves to the fact that the T has them in the bag.

I nibble my thumb, ignoring the blue-eyed man attached to my pocket. Yes, the pretty might've walked away from me now, but that was a lovely shade of blue and I can't wait to see it lose its brightness.

The end


End file.
